At that moment, Lois Lane was searching the house for Clark. How had he vanished in the blink of an eye?
"Clark?" she called softly, pushing open another door—still no sign of him. Maybe he had gone off to save someone again?
Thinking about it, that had to be the case. She raised her voice just enough: "Clark, don't forget our candlelight dinner…"
Her words weren't loud, but with Clark's hearing, he could easily catch them. And the other black-haired Superman no doubt heard them too.
Same super-hearing. A thought suddenly struck her—whenever she and Clark made love, didn't that mean the black-haired Superman also knew every sound? Her expression turned awkward.
"Click!"
The sound of a lock turning broke the silence. Lois glanced over, expecting Clark. But when the door opened, in stumbled not her lover, but a filthy, disheveled vagrant clutching a dagger.
"Oh my God!!!" Lois shrieked, spinning to run.
The vagrant didn't immediately chase her. Instead, he rummaged through the room, searching for valuables.
"You've got a vagrant in your house," Colin remarked lazily. Though Clark's home was far away, Colin could still see and hear everything happening there.
Clark, worried Lois would be frightened, shot into the sky at supersonic speed. The air cracked as he accelerated even further. In the blink of an eye, he burst into his home.
The vagrant turned at the noise, his face twisting with fury. "Get out!!" he barked.
"You get out!!" Lois roared back, brandishing a frying pan. Furious that this filthy intruder had ruined her carefully prepared candlelit dinner, she hurled it with all her strength.
Her heart bled—hours of work ruined in an instant!
"Clang!!" The pan smacked squarely against the vagrant's head.
He howled in pain, cursing as he staggered.
"You bitch!!"
Lois, no less fierce, shot back without hesitation.
"Screw you!!"
Enraged, the vagrant lunged at Clark with his knife, snarling about crippling him and violating Lois right before his eyes.
But to Superman, restraining him was child's play. Clark disarmed and subdued him effortlessly, then dialed the police. Matters like this were for them to handle.
Once Clark left, Colin too retreated to his own mansion. Though he had little need for rest, he had grown fond of the habit. Each night, when the hour came, he went to bed.
Sinking into his vast, soft mattress, his muscles loosened all at once. He relished that rare feeling of relaxation.
Meanwhile, Batman was still out in the night, fighting for peace. By dawn, he had already gone through five brawls—each time taking on multiple men at once. Exhausting work. If not for his high-tech gear, he might have been overwhelmed.
For all his martial skill, even he struggled when burly thugs clung to his arms or legs. But with gadgets in his arsenal, he managed to prevail.
Only when the first light of dawn broke did he drag his weary body back home. Tonight had been brutal.
At eight o'clock, Colin awoke to the aroma of breakfast drifting upstairs.
Down in the kitchen, a beautiful young woman in a maid outfit busied herself with Chinese dishes. Her figure was breathtaking—ample curves, round hips, the kind of presence that drew eyes without mercy.
She was Monica, a Western beauty who happened to be remarkably skilled in Chinese culture. Whatever dish Colin desired, she would master in a single day and serve flawlessly.
With her around, Colin never had to worry about trivial matters. She tended his vast estate, even raising livestock and cultivating a vegetable garden to provide fresh food year-round.
She was, in every sense, superhuman in her care. With her by his side, Colin sometimes wondered if he might turn into a pampered layabout.
"Good morning, Mr. Colin," Monica said warmly. "Why don't you freshen up? Breakfast will be ready by the time you're done."
"Mm." Colin nodded and went off to wash.
Elsewhere, Clark too was preparing breakfast—an ordinary Western one, far less refined than Monica's. He had long grown used to such simplicity.
Soon, Lois emerged in nothing but a T-shirt that barely covered her hips, her full curves leaving little to the imagination.
Colin, brushing his teeth as he peeked in, chuckled through the foam: "Nice body you've got there."
He had only wanted to spy on Superman's morning routine—yet this was what he stumbled upon.
Clark's face darkened instantly. In a flash, he used his speed to dress Lois properly.
"Eh?" Lois blinked in confusion, having no idea what just happened.
Colin laughed to himself. Then, as though sharing idle gossip, he said, "By the way, when you kiss Lois, don't you notice all the dead skin and bugs crawling on her face?"
Ever since gaining his powers, Colin couldn't bring himself to kiss women. His microscopic vision revealed far too much—bugs, pores, imperfections. The thought alone disgusted him.
Clark stayed silent. At first, he too had been unsettled. But after enough times with Lois, he grew used to it.
Seeing him wordless, Colin pressed on. "Your breakfast looks bland. Why not come to my place? Monica's cooking is leagues better."
At that very moment, Monica was working tirelessly downstairs, unaware Colin was conversing with someone in another city.
Clark glanced over—and sure enough, he saw Monica's spread. Even from here, the aroma reached him. Compared to that, his own breakfast looked utterly pitiful.
"Oh, darling, thank you," Lois cooed, wrapping her arms around Clark's broad chest before leaning in for a kiss.
That was when Colin's drawling voice slipped into Clark's ears:
"You just kissed a mouthful of bugs."
Clark: "…"